


no time wasted on you

by taonsils (mirokkuma)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Husbands, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28440663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirokkuma/pseuds/taonsils
Summary: Minseok isn’t actually angry - if he was angry every time their ideas of chore priorities didn’t sync up it wouldn’t make for a happy relationship - but he can’t just let Junmyeon off that easily. It’s cute watching him squirm. It’s cute how excited he is that his work came easily to him today. Minseok has a very messy, very cute husband.(alternatively: 5 times Junmyeon wheedled his way out of chores and the one time he didn’t.)♡ prompt S348
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Comments: 11
Kudos: 54
Collections: Starry Suho Fest (R1)





	no time wasted on you

**Author's Note:**

> prompter, I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted! it was such a fun prompt to work with and ended up growing as I fell in love with their little universe ;-; it’s my first time writing this pairing and I enjoyed it so much!  
> mods, thank you for your kind running of this fest ♡ (and thank you to A & A for the encouragement on my draft !)

“You’re home!”

Minseok looks up from unlacing his shoe. His husband sounds equal parts surprised and pleased about this development. Tucking his work shoes into the single gap between Junmyeon’s row of totally essential, definitely-to-wear sneakers, Minseok smiles. “I am,” he calls back, straightening up. He stretches and leans until his spine gives a satisfying pop, then groans as he sags. Tired.

“How’s- uh- how’s your day been?” comes Junmyeon’s voice from the living room, along with the sound of papers rustling as though a small tornado is in there with him.

“Long. Not bad or anything,” Minseok replies. Pretty much the same as always, “Just long.” He unzips his jacket and hangs it, eager to shed the scent of the clinic. It’s not awful - he mostly does physiotherapy, sports injuries, that type of thing - but the disinfectant and massage oils always linger. Once he’s home he wants to shut his work brain off for the day and not be reminded of it. “You?”

Just as Minseok falls silent in wait of an answer there’s a gentle crash, followed by Junmyeon grumbling. A moment passes, and then, “Good,” he calls, “Busy. You know, really busy..”

Minseok doesn’t have to look into the kitchen as he passes to know that Junmyeon’s forgotten to do the dishes (left from last night, that he swore he would do in the morning). “Ah,” he says, “ _Busy_.”

Their apartment isn’t large enough for Junmyeon to have an office space, so their living room is set up to double as one while Minseok is out. All this involves is Junmyeon moving whatever papers he needs from the cabinet onto the coffee table and sitting with his laptop. Nothing complicated, nothing that displaces the layout of their home. Minseok leans his hip on the door frame, arms folded. Casual-stern is the look he’s going for. 

What greets Minseok after his long (but not bad) day is pretty much what he’s been expecting since he got in. “I can see that,” he says, adding a little chin tilt for effect. 

There’s a bundle of garbage the size of Tan in Junmyeon’s arms. He smiles at Minseok, adorable and sheepish, his eyes wide like he’s hoping maybe, just _maybe_ he’s redeemed himself enough in time. His single household task for the day had been cleaning up the mess he’d already made from yesterday’s _super important no time to stop no room for distractions_ research session. 

“I was writing.”

Minseok hums thoughtfully. He taps his fingers against his forearm. “That’s good. If you weren’t writing then we’d be in trouble.”

“I was _writing_!” Several items from the bundle in Junmyeon’s arms are shaken out in enthusiasm and drift to the floor. “Good writing! Oh my gosh, it was _so_ good today.” 

Junmyeon is a poet. And a lyricist, occasional thought-piece author, and a semi-regular article writer, amongst other creative wordy jobs that go a little over Minseok’s head. As such, he often spends more time suffering over being so creative than he does actually creating anything. 

“I forgot lunch. And then I knew you wouldn’t like that, so I..” a head tilt towards the kitchen, ”And then..” to the garbage in a semi-organised designated area. The further garbage that isn’t in a huge ball in his arms.

Minseok isn’t actually angry - if he was angry every time their ideas of chore priorities didn’t sync up it wouldn’t make for a happy relationship - but he can’t just let Junmyeon off that easily. It’s cute watching him squirm. It’s cute how excited he is that words came easily to him today. Minseok has a very messy, very cute husband. “ _Good_ writing,” Minseok’s mouth forms an O of impressed surprise.

Junmyeon either misses the teasing tone or is too eager to be praised to care. “I’m so excited about this one,” he beams, rocking the garbage baby in his arms. His hair is adorably dishevelled, like his hands have constantly been combing through it in thought.

For someone so smart Junmyeon’s also incredibly scatterbrained. His mind functions a little like the old church library Minseok would go to after school some days - full of interesting facts and pretty words, nothing practical, empty after 7pm. His thoughts take up too much space in his head, squeezing out less important things like meal times, chore schedules, and texts reminding him to get up and stretch at least once an hour. But Junmyeon’s been in a creative funk for over a week now, so his enthusiasm returning is a relief. Even if the kitchen doesn’t bear thinking about. 

Minseok holds a hand out to Junmyeon, like he’s beckoning a cat. And it works; Junmyeon disposes of his armful onto the couch and is quickly nuzzling in at Mineok’s side now he knows he isn’t in trouble. “I’m glad you’ve been having a more exciting day than I have,” Minseok squeezes at Junmyeon’s little waist, “Tell me about it?”

Junmyeon whole face lights up, and Minseok can’t resist planting a kiss to his cheek. It glows warm. “It’s about us! It’s a piece I’m writing about, like,” he starts waving his hands. That’s how Minseok knows he’s really into a project; when he has to use his body to talk about it. “Its a commissioned piece for one of the main pride projects this year.”

Minseok perks up at that. Often he doesn’t really _get_ what Junmyeon writes about, but that - them - he’s curious. “That’s a big one, huh? That’s amazing, Junmyeonnie,” he smiles. Then turns for the kitchen with a tug at Junmyeon’s waist. “I need something sweet, but keep telling me.”

If Minseok were to focus on the stack of dishes and pans, the additional mess Junmyeon has created when he haphazardly put his late, forgotten lunch together..Minseok doesn’t focus on that. He crouches to look in the fridge and feels Junmyeon right behind him. Their nearest convenience store has started stocking Starbucks chilled drinks, which are a little over budget for them, but sometimes Minseok deserves a treat. 

Junmyeon waits while Minseok peels the straw from its plastic, pops the foil lid. “So! So, its about millennials reaching 30 and what we imagined growing up gay would be like, compared to how it’s turned out.” He pauses for long enough that Minseok could contribute a thought. He’s listening, but his mouth is occupied with slurping at the straw, so with a wave Junmyeon continues. “You know, like, things like how we lacked visible positivity or didn’t think marriage would be possible. And how things have progressed since, that kind of thing.”

Minseok nods along thoughtfully. That sounds like something he’d genuinely be interested in reading, not just obligatory in-love-with-the-author reading. He detaches from his straw long enough to say so.

“Yeah? I hope you’ll like it.” There’s a snagged loop in Junmyeon’s sweater that he finds to fiddle with. His lips turn pouting as he adds, “And I get to show off to my regular readers that we got married.”

Minseok sucks up air and coughs. “Won’t that ruin your reputation?”

“I can be happy and write about sad things!” Junmyeon pats Minseok’s shoulder as though it’ll clear his airway. Thought that counts. “Art gays like being nihilistic, you wouldn’t get it.”

“I wouldn’t,” Minseok replies easily, “I like being happy with you.”

Junmyeon hums agreement. He rests his hip against the counter, and when he tilts his head all of his messy curtain of hair falls across his face in a way that prompts a nose scrunch. Minseok is full of love and caffeine and caramel.

“Personally,” he says, swirling his drink, “I like looking at strong men’s thighs in little shorts and being content that I’m settled. And not thinking about how hard things used to be or what being bullied in my teens was like.”

Junmyeon’s gasp is sharp, leaks back out as a sigh. “Oh, we _love_ that part. But once you’re past it and can just reminisce,” he clarifies.

Giving his sadly short-lived treat one last, loud slurp, Minseok turns from Junmyeon to drop the container in the recycling. “If I wrote poetry it’d be about something nice,” he decides, then hums. Probably like the stuff his mother circles in magazines about birds and flowers. She likes revisiting them now and then when her spirits need lifting. Junmyeon writes articles for that, but his poetry tends to be for spirits who aren’t ready to lift. “Nothing groundbreaking, but it’d be nice.”

“It can be nice! I do nice!” Junmyeon protests. Minseok raises a finely plucked brow at him, reaching for his waist and squeezing. It doesn’t take away the indignant pout. But then Junmyeon folds in against Minseok, hip to hip and chest to chest. Their noses bump softly, and Junmyeon is smiling then; Minseok can see his crescent eyes. “The article I’m working on is nice. I get to tell everyone how much I adore my handsome partner and how happy he is to be settled.”

Minseok hums approvingly at that. He lifts his left hand to sweep Junmyeon’s hair from his eyes, a tender gesture compared to where the hand at Junmyeon’s waist is travelling to. “Think how much happier he’ll be when you do the dishes.”

“I will, I promise.” Junmyeon’s cheeks are pink from his little outburst. He looks around at where in the kitchen to start, and Minseok’s strong hand kneads in, and Junmyeon blinks back at him in surprise. “But maybe..later?”  
  
“A little later, yeah,” Minseok smiles, leaning in. Coming home to Junmyeon is his favourite part of the day, clean apartment or not.

  
♡

  
Minseok has had the luxury of a consultation space in addition to his own room since the building went from three practitioners to two. His opposite neighbour already looked going on 80 when Minseok joined the practice, hands gnarled and nails flat and wide. He worked in methods Minseok could never understand but Junmyeon was fascinated by, with little coloured lights and crystals. It seemed very effective despite its mysteries. Either way, his family finally convinced him to retire a few months back, so for now Minseok has fashioned the empty room into a useful space for his patients to sit and chat while he takes notes. It has the best light in the building.

Overall Minseok likes his work a lot, and his workplace. When he steps out into the waiting area to get a refill of water from the cooler he finds another reason to like it even more. “Junmyeonnie?” His smile turns curious once he’s taken a glance to establish it’s just the two of them here. “This is a nice surprise.” 

“Mm,” Junmyeon beams from his seat in the comfy single chair beside the long couch, “I knew I would be.”

Minseok tuts fondly. The clock above the door says he has time to give Junmyeon some attention, assuming his next patient isn’t too enthusiastic about their appointment. Some of them are. Usually the sports injuries, like arriving anxiously early will get them fixed up faster. “That still leaves the question of what the surprise is in aid of,” he points out, perching on the puffy arm of the chair.

It’s unusual to see Junmyeon out of the house at all when he has a deadline, let alone take the fifteen minute drive to Minseok’s building. There isn’t much else in the area - it’s residential mostly, each block dotted with a few cafes and dusty looking boutiques that are always closed. 

Junmyeon leans into Minseok, his temple pressing in at Minseok’s ribs. “Because I like seeing you in your work clothes,” he says, but from the way he sags into Minseok’s body Minseok suspects it’s more to clear his head. He doesn’t comment, giving Junmyeon his own time. They have enough of it for now. “It always smells nice here,” Junmyeon adds after a moment. 

“You should take advantage of me.” Minseok runs fingertips over Junmyeon’s nape, feeling how he tenses and hurts from even the slightest pressure. “You spend so much time..” 

“Hunched up typing and it’s bad for my neck, I know.” Junmyeon glances up at him, “I don’t want to waste your time. As soon as you ironed it out I’d have to go straight back to doing it again.”

“Need to get you a nice chair,” Minseok says. Junmyeon’s preference for getting into prawn position whenever possible doesn’t do him in any favours. Minseok suggests it often, but he knows it’s something Junmyeon would be catlike about. He’d come home every day to the chair untouched and Junmyeon using the box as a table.

Minseok’s hands are soft from oils and the near scalding water he only recently cleaned them up with, and for a moment Junmyeon lets him absently work at a sore spot until it no longer makes him wince. For a longer moment Minseok works up into the back of his hair, thumb rubbing firm at the tension there until Junmyeon’s relaxing through his shoulders.

“It isn’t a waste of time if it makes it stop hurting, even if only briefly.”

At the sound of Minseok’s voice, Junmyeon inhales sharply through his nose and makes a slightly dizzy attempt at righting himself in his seat. “I’ll fall asleep, Minseokkie. You’re too good at this,” it’s a little whiny, “I’ll fall asleep if you keep doing that.”

Minseok hums, strokes the back of Junmyeon’s hair down where his fingers have mussed it. “Not because you told me you’d be finished by midnight and the hall light was still on gone three?”

“No.” Junmyeon pouts. “A little, maybe.”

Unfortunately the clock above the door is saying husband time is over. Minseok gives Junmyeon’s shoulder a final squeeze, then slips off the arm of the couch. “Are you a little maybe here because if you pick up Tan’s food that means I clean the tray?” He brushes off his neat white outfit and straightens his name tag, then gives Junmyeon a smile. 

“I came to see you!” Junmyeon protests, but the way he starts fiddling with the car keys gives off guilty vibes. The only other thing in the area is the pet store. “It’s helpful that I pick up the food, though, right? You don’t want to stop in there on your way home from work.”

Junmyeon isn’t wrong that Minseok is wary of the birds kept in large cages pretty near to where the food is. He isn’t so scared that he’s incapable of going in, but..it is maybe true that Tan gets the store bought brand rather than being treated with the pet store range more often than not. 

“I’m being a good cat parent,” Junmyeon, who has been a dog person his entire life, adds. It earns him more petting to the back of his head, but unfortunately the shadow of a figure through the frosted front windows stops him relaxing into it.

“You are,” Minseok agrees. He gives Junmyeon’s hair a last smooth down, takes a few steps back to stand by the desk. “Stay there until I’ve seen them in. Act heterosexual.”

Junmyeon gasps. “I’m telling my article readers that you said that,” he hisses as he reaches across to grab a magazine from the table, and it’s all Minseok can do to fight down a smile as he greets his next client at the door.

  
♡

  
Before he was married Minseok would regularly go out with friends at weekends. Or maybe that was before he had a home larger than a two room apartment. Or maybe, really, it’s something to do with hitting 30. Regardless, Minseok often seems to find himself mid-cushion pluffing and realising he’s spent another entire weekend at home. Minseok _enjoys_ being at home with a cat in his lap, though, thank you very much. Nothing wrong with that.

Junmyeon, on the other hand, is generally desperate to get out after being rooted to the couch for a week. His social circle outside of their mutual friends has only increased in recent years as he networks and charms his way through queer creative society. They go to galleries, readings at cafes that aren’t yet open to the public, strange late night performances. Minseok is happy that his husband has the right people to enjoy those things with. He’s happy to thoroughly kiss Junmyeon goodbye on a Saturday evening and not see him again until Sunday morning.

Or, sometimes, afternoon. 

“He lives.” Minseok smiles over his shoulder. Junmyeon tenderly rests his head against the door frame and doesn’t smile back. Minseok turns fully from the musaengchae his crinkly plastic gloves are coated in, cheerfully ignoring the zombified state his husband is in. “You know what day it is?” 

“Sunday. The day we sleep.” Junmyeon yawns for emphasis. His button up pyjama shirt is crooked, the left side hanging too low. He rubs at his collarbone where cold air is seeping in through the uneven neckline.

Minseok rubs his fingers through the sliced radish once more, feeling for any undissolved sugar, then neatly tugs the gloves off inside out. “Mmhm, and~?”

Junmyeon ventures nearer. He gets a whiff of the vinegar in the mixing bowl and winces. Junmyeon doesn’t drink himself, but he’s happy company to his friends as they get red faced and raucous around him. If they miss the last train home then so does he. Minseok suspects Junmyeon wasn’t in bed much sooner than Minseok was out.

Stepping past Junmyeon to dispose of the gloves, Minseok shoots him a playful scowl. “And laundry day, Junmyeonnie. I already did the difficult part.”

“You’re better at the difficult part,” Junmyeon reasons. “I’m good at the..” he pauses in thought. Minseok takes the opportunity to give him a good morning (afternoon) peck on the cheek. Junmyeon grumbles like a cat making start up noises as he settles into Minseok’s arms. “It’s the taking part that counts, right?”

“Something like that.”

“Can I eat first?” Junmyeon looks at Minseok as though he’s actually expecting him to deprive him. Sunday is sleeping in day, laundry day, _and_ Junmyeon-is-allowed-sugar day. “I know I’m late, but..”

“Shush,” Minseok bumps their noses softly, “You can eat in a moment.”

Junmyeon blinks expectantly. His eyelids are still droopy. “What’s..” He trails off against Minseok’s lips. Minseok sure must enjoy being married to him, willingly kissing him with morning breath. Junmyeon melts into the kiss, pliant and sleep warm under Minseok’s strong hands.

Their personal brand of domesticity isn’t to everyone’s tastes, that’s for sure. It doesn’t work how Minseok had grown up imagining that it would, but to be honest he’d never so much bought into that lifestyle as expected he’d learn to like it. He and Junmyeon may not be all that similar, but they aren’t polar opposites either. They fit comfortably together, just sickening enough to annoy their single friends and just functional enough that their mothers don’t need to worry, and that’s all Minseok could ask for.

  
Once Junmyeon’s showered, dressed, and got some caffeine and two people’s worth of strawberries and syrup into his system, he’s..still pretty droopy, but a lot less grumpy. He rolls up the sleeves of his pink sweater with purpose, then dutifully hovers in the background while Minseok works.

Minseok hums to himself while he pulls clumps of damp clothing out of the machine. Every laundry day that no longer involves washing by hand or a trip out is a good day. Only priority clothes go on the balcony to air and the rest hangs from doorways, drapes over chairs, and in worst case scenario they utilise the shower rail.

When asked Junmyeon obediently fetches the first load from the drying racks outside while Minseok sets about decorating the apartment with t-shirts and underwear. He returns windblown and snuffling grumpily, sleeves hastily pushed back down. “I think we should nap while the next load is drying,” Junmyeon suggests.

A damp shirt falls into Minseok’s face and he splutters. Neither of them are tall enough to reach the door frames without a little stretch. He aims the hanger better this time. Maybe a break would be nice. “Good idea.”

“Isn’t it!” Junmyeon clasps his hands, “Couch? I’ll get blankets.”

“Couch,” Minseok nods. Junmyeon’s sweater is all lopsided, showing a white t-shirt underneath that probably should have been in the hamper. There’s one load left to go - Minseok can tackle him out of it later.

  
Junmyeon gathers the clothing from around the place before Minseok cooks. While Minseok goes back and forth accumulating ingredients on the counter he hears the stop-start of footsteps as Junmyeon goes door to door, the clatter of the wire hangers as he bundles them up. 

The next time Minseok finds him he’s back on the couch with his blanket. The basket is next to the coffee table, clean clothes piled up and threatening to spill. “This doesn’t look very folded.”

Junmyeon stirs under the blanket. “I needed a moment.”

“Have you had it? I want those away before I cook or they’ll get stinky.”

Junmyeon sits up and stretches, winces at the stiffness in his neck, then offers Minseok a dozy smile. “Just thinking about how handsome you are,” he says, “And how much I love you.”

Nice as that is, Minseok responds by pushing the basket of unfolded laundry into Junmyeon’s arms. “Stop saying I love you to get out of chores.”

Junmyeon pouts drastically, fumbling to keep hold of the heavy white wicker basket. “It used to work!”

“Honeymoon period,” Minseok tuts. He prods at Junmyeon until it gets him moving, steering him towards the bedroom. “Fold everything in ten minutes and you can have a kiss after dinner.”

“Only one?” Junmyeon hikes the basket up to rest on his hip. “What if I do it in five?”

“Then I’ll be very impressed,” Minseok laughs. They turn to go their separate ways, but Minseok realises— “Junmyeonnie,” he catches Junmyeon’s arm, tugging him back, “I love you too.”

Despite the prospect of his laundry mountain, Junmyeon heads to their room with a smile. Minseok lingers in the doorway for just a moment before ducking back into the kitchen to get started on vegetable peeling. 

It’s entirely Minseok’s own fault, really. He didn’t house train Junmyeon before he married him. If anything Junmyeon is right - Minseok is chore and cute boy oriented; when they were dating he indulged Junmyeon to indulge himself. 

  
♡ 

  
Junmyeon has written articles that dip into their shared life before. When he writes about their relationship Minseok is _Beomseok_. Despite knowing at least three other Minseoks just between the two of them, Junmyeon does it out of courtesy to protect his identity. You never know who might connect dots and take issue, and with Minseok’s work, handling naked bodies, it’s an unfortunate reality.

Beomseok is a soccer player born the same year as Minseok. Junmyeon researched it, because he thought Minseok would like that, even if Beomseok appears to not be a particularly skilled soccer player. Junmyeon doesn’t understand the first thing about soccer (he isn’t even interested in the muscular thighs), but he did memorise Beomseok’s number and transfers, for no reason other than thinking Minseok would like it. 

Minseok does. Minseok would also like if Junmyeon remembered to come back and clear the entire table when it’s his turn to do dishes.

  
“Would you write poetry?” Junmyeon asks Minseok the moment he enters the kitchen.

Minseok sets down the stack of bowls held to his chest and pauses for thought. Would he? What does he have to write poetry about?

“You said if you wrote poems they’d be nice ones.”

“Nice poems?” Minseok puts their chopsticks down on the drainer with a gentle click of metal to metal. “When did I say I’d write poems?”

Junmyeon pouts down at the sink. “About three weeks ago? I’d kind of hoped you’d have kept thinking about it.” He rubs at a spoon with his thumb. When Junmyeon does dishes he wears pink rubber gloves that nearly reach his elbows and runs in more bubbles than water. Efficient, he thinks. “Maybe..I don’t know, surprised me with one or something.”

Minseok almost laughs. Surprising his poet boyfriend with a poem would be a Beomseok situation. But Junmyeon’s mood has turned distinctly sullen, so Minseok doesn’t laugh. Not even at himself, at the idea of attempting to make art the way Junmyeon can. “I have zero training,” Minseok says, coming to stand behind Junmyeon, “If writing was easy to do then you wouldn’t need that secret twitter account.”

Junmyeon picks up the chopstick bundle and says nothing. What’s spoken of with his 17 trusted writer and publisher mutuals on that account is between them and god. 

“Well, _training_ probably isn’t the correct term,” Minseok muses. There’s a perfect little space between the apron straps for him. He rests his cheek against Junmyeon’s shoulder, the soft fabric of his burnt orange cardigan. Minseok’s lovely tormented artist. “Writing makes you vulnerable in ways I don’t think I would be unwilling to unlock.”

“That’s true.” Junmyeon tilts his head back to rest against Minseok. “Being profound is my job. Being level headed is yours.”

Minseok hums. “Yeah. We balance each other out well like that.” He gives Junmyeon a squeeze, soaking up more of his warmth. He steps back to let Junmyeon move again and immediately feels the loss of it. “I just don’t have a big brain like yours, Junmyeonnie.”

Junmyeon twists so abruptly he sloshes water out of the sink. “Your brain is _so_ big,” he protests, “I’d love to know even half of the stuff you do for your work. And being so kind and observant is big brained, too.”

“If you say so,” Minseok smiles, pulling Junmyeon’s apron strap back onto his shoulder. “I do find working so intimately with people an interesting experience. The way their bodies and moods change, the kinds of things people confide in me as a relative stranger..” he muses, “Sometimes long term pain is more psychological and we work through that, too. It’s interesting.”

Junmyeon nods along. “I’m sure. Connecting with people that way has always seemed so special to me.” He uses the sponge to mop up the water he splashed onto the counter, then starts to scrub out a bowl. “Do you never feel like recording any thoughts on things like that?”

Minseok shrugs. “I’m just not good at finding the words to express it, I guess. I think about it from time to time, but the wordy stuff is your job, you know? I’m never going to write a book about my life as a physiotherapist or anything.” He smiles just at the thought of it and what kind of silly pun they could come up with for the title. Junmyeon abruptly disrupts the thought, spinning around to him again at startling speed.

“Can we try?” He looks at Minseok with wide eyes, their usual sparkle bloodshot and dimmed, “I’ll help! Nothing deep and moody, I promise. It’d be a really fun exercise!”

Uh. Fun isn’t exactly what Minseok is picturing. But it’s evidently been on Junmyeon’s mind despite his deadline, and how exhausted Junmyeon looks comparable to how much energy he runs on when his writing brain is engaged.. Minseok doesn’t like the thought that even _more_ work is what he needs to calm down, but. 

“Sorry,” Junmyeon is pouting, withdrawing, “I’d love if we could make something together. But I know it’s not really your thing, I just got..”

“No, I- I guess, yeah.” It’s not really Minseok’s thing, but then sports bars and 6am training sessions aren’t Junmyeon’s and he’s joined Minseok more than enough times. He bought a silly neon headband so Minseok ‘could make him out on foggy mornings’. “Sure. Let’s write something.”

Junmyeon perks up with another little slosh of water. “Really?” he gasps, and Minseok realises then that this has probably been on his mind for far longer than the past three weeks. With a wet squeak of rubber Junmyeon starts tugging the pink gloves off. “I have a notebook I was saving for a special occasion, we can use that! I think I know where I left it..” Junmyeon drops the gloves on the drainer and speeds across the kitchen, “Take over!”

Minseok blinks from the small stack of remaining dishes to the gloves dripping on the floor to his husband’s retreating back.

“Take- _Junmyeon_!”

  
♡

  
Junmyeon’s article is published. He finished it in the early hours, read and reread it, then stayed up until Tan was ready for breakfast and his editor sent out their first emails of the day to okay his submission. For minutes he stood numbly in the kitchen after filling Tan’s dish, listening to her crunching and feeling the feathery sway of her tail against his shin. Then he slept and slept, Minseok snuck in and shut his alarm off, and he slept some more.

And the article was a success - shared well, a good response. Even twitter enjoyed it, though Minseok isn’t entirely sure what the ominous phrasing of that means. It’s evidently good enough to entail some of Junmyeon’s friends coming over to celebrate, if the cluster of shoes by the door is anything to go by.

Minseok hangs his jacket and slips off his own shoes. It’s just habit that he straightens up the unfamiliar pairs while he’s crouched down. Chanyeol is definitely here - his sneakers are the only ones that look significantly worn, and when Minseok lines them up beside a pair of Junmyeon’s they’re nearly twice the size.

“I’m home,” he calls to whoever will hear it, and half a second later the crashing and footsteps start.

Minseok is greeted by Baekhyun with enthusiasm, outdone only by Chanyeol shoving past to pull him into a hug that nearly lifts him off his toes. “Boys, boys,” Minseok laughs, fondly patting the excitable puppies to keep them at bay. Baekhyun’s hair he ruffles; Chanyeol he can only easily reach to pat his shoulder. “I’m happy to see you too.”

It isn’t all that often Junmyeon invites people into their space, unless Minseok wants to do something grown up like a dinner party, and with Minseok preferring to stay cosy at home there can be long gaps in him meeting the boys he accidentally adopted from Junmyeon’s friend group. Chanyeol’s hair is soft pink now, and Baekhyun’s previous white blonde is giving way to carefully styled dark roots. Both of them are wearing hoodies, and Baekhyun’s pale orange front has a large wet spill down it.

“It’s Sprite,” Baekhyun says when he sees Minseok’s concerned gaze. He pats his tummy just where the dark patch ends. “Don’t worry, all on me and none on the furniture.”

  
It turns out Junmyeon didn’t join the welcome party because he’s fast asleep. Baekhyun shushes Minseok with a finger to his lips, then proceeds to settle back in the living room as noisily as humanly possible. Chanyeol follows more carefully, but by the time Minseok has picked his way around the coffee table and joined them Junmyeon hasn’t stirred.

“Exciting party,” Minseok comments as Baekhyun pours him a drink, looking across at his husband curled up so small in the opposite armchair. His cheek is smushed into the arm, but otherwise he looks more peaceful than Minseok’s seen him in a month. He takes a sip of soda and the bubbles burn on his tongue. “Is he being an art installation for you to look at?” he teases, gesturing to Junmyeon with his glass. Baekhyun’s laugh is loud, but Junmyeon keeps dozing.

“He knocked out twenty minutes ago,” Chanyeol says softly. “We didn’t like to wake him. It wasn’t a party as such in the first place, we..” he shrugs his sleeve up, revealing a heavy watch and a tattoo Minseok can’t recall if he’s seen before, “Yeah, we arrived at like three.”

Baekhyun nods, folding his arms around himself and his damp hoodie and relaxing back into the comfy couch. “I brought egg tarts for all of us and he ate two himself. You can have the third one if you want.”

“I’d like that, thank you.” Minseok sets his drink down and then stretches, linking his fingers and flexing until his shoulder blades pull pleasantly. He settles back with Baekhyun. Truth be told a nap doesn’t seem a bad idea to him, either. “And thanks for keeping him company, even if he’s bad company.”

“This is pretty raucous for me these days,” Chanyeol comments with a grin that widens at the sounds of agreement. Domestic life with someone whose favourite past time is sitting alone in the dark may not have seemed suited to Chanyeol, but he’d have dated Kyungsoo whether he’d been a hermit or wanted to hike a mountain on weekends.

“We’re all settling without intending to,” Minseok muses.

“Disgusting,” Baekhyun’s tongue comes out in a fake gag, “See, my plan is much better. I find a bored married couple and become their adored and spoiled third, and then- stop that,” he leans around Minseok to smack Chanyeol’s arm lightly, “Stop looking at me like that every time I bring it up. Minseok, tell him,” Baekhyun nudges him encouragingly, “Polyamory isn’t cheating.”

Minseok turns to see Chanyeol giving Baekhyun his most severe puppy eyes. “He’s right, Yeollie.” Minseok pats Chanyeol consolingly.

Baekhyun nods, perched on the edge of his seat so he can have enough height to at least try and stare Chanyeol down. “I _am_ , thank you. If you don’t like it then you don’t have to do it, but there’s nothing bad and dirty about it.”

For a moment Chanyeol feels tense against Minseok’s side, and Minseok wonders if he’s going to stand. But it passes, Chanyeol sinking back into his seat with a sigh before leaning right forward for his glass. “I love lots of people,” he says, swirling the fierce bubbles around, “But I only want to kiss one.”

Minseok hums thoughtfully, looking across at Junmyeon. Still fast asleep, unbothered by the raised voices. Junmyeon’s temperament calms considerably once a project is over. He still tends to be up at his laptop finding something or another to get absorbed in while Minseok is on the last step of his skincare and ready for bed, but without the frenetic energy he’s more present in his surroundings. Minseok is used to it, and Minseok loves him both ways. “Same. Just Junmyeon for me for the rest of my life.”

Baekhyun groans. “I’m going to stop coming over,” he sighs, collapses back against Minseok’s side, then immediately springs back up again, “No, no I’m not,” he decides, “I’ll bring my husband _and_ wife with me.” 

“You really think _two_ people could put up with you,” Chanyeol retaliates, swatting at the finger Baekhyun is pointing at him. Minseok tuts fondly and lets them lean around him to bicker. In the armchair Junmyeon lets out a tiny snore.

  
Over time Baekhyun scoots down onto the floor so Minseok can absently work on his shoulders while they chat. The man hunches so much Minseok wishes he could book him for a full hour to iron out properly. He tried working Chanyeol’s back once, but he has reflexes in the oddest of places.

As afternoon turns to evening Junmyeon blearily comes around to take part in the debate over what they should eat. They don’t get takeout often, but it is a celebration. Chanyeol has to duck out to call Kyungsoo and make sure he hadn’t any elaborate dinner plans for tonight, and by the time he’s back Junmyeon is upright again.

“Feel better?” Chanyeol looms over Junmyeon. He pets down the side of Junmyeon’s hair where it’s sticking out every which way, hums, then decides it looked cute standing up like a little horn and fluffs it back up.

“Yeah. Thank you, I’m..” Junmyeon yawns, obliviously leaning into what Chanyeol is doing. Big hand warm and gentle. “Sorry for inviting you over and then, then..” another yawn, bringing tears to his eyes.

Chanyeol chuckles softly, dropping his hand to give Junmyeon’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “One group read through of the article was enough, don’t worry.”

  
Their non-party lasts until the scandalous time of 8pm, when Chanyeol says he should be getting home and only Baekhyun teases him for it.

“You marrieds,” he complains, taking the initiative to clear the table while Chanyeol is busy stuffing himself and his bulky hoodie into his coat and Minseok fusses over straightening it out.

“Just because the rest of us matured and you haven’t,” Minseok says. He tugs at Chanyeol’s hood, then gives him a pat. Chanyeol still hasn’t fully quit smoking. He gets close, but his nerves hinder him. The strong scents he wears to cover the smoke get up Minseok’s nose a little, but it’s preferable to when he’d have to febreeze the staleness out of all the cushions as soon as Chanyeol left.

“Chanyeol wishes they were married,” Junmyeon says under his breath to Baekhyun as they both load up on empty containers and glasses.

Baekhyun grins. They both say their goodbyes as they pass, Junmyeon giving Chanyeol a soft nudge with a shoulder in lieu of a hug. As soon as they’re in the kitchen Baekhyun laughs. “I know, right? He’d have proposed to Kyungsoo the week they met if he didn’t know it’d scare him off.”

“I think Kyungsoo will say yes one day, though,” Junmyeon says. Kyungsoo and the workings of his feelings is something of a mystery even after years of friendship - it wouldn’t entirely surprise him if Kyungsoo proposed first. Everything Kyungsoo does is somehow simultaneously a surprise and in character.

“Uh..hey,” Baekhyun says behind him, “Where should I put this stuff?”

“Hmm?”

The recycling container is full to overflowing. Minseok’s plastic coffee cup from this morning is balanced delicately on top. The whole thing smells like sticky. “Oh,” Junmyeon frowns, stepping back into Baekhyun and redirecting to the counter with his armful.

“Eww,” Baekhyun adds, then, “At least you have so much to recycle instead of general trash.”

“It isn’t usually..when should it be put out for collection? On Wednesday?” Junmyeon answers himself, confident but confused. At that moment Minseok joins them, immediately seeing the issue and raising a brow. “I know it is,” Junmyeon says fretfully, “I mark my turn on my schedule. One hundred percent sure it’s tomorrow.”

Baekhyun looks between them for an answer on what to do, and when he gets none sidles his armful onto the counter besides Junmyeon’s. He pulls his hoodie out to check for sauce stains. None. Just the smell of Sprite.

“Babe,” Minseok says softly, “You slept the whole of Monday away, I think you’re still running a day behind.”

Junmyeon immediately flushes deep red. Baekhyun gasps playfully. “Someone’s in trouble ~” he sing-songs, and the flush spreads as far as Junmyeon’s ears.

“No he’s not,” Minseok tuts, shooing Baekhyun out of the way.

Junmyeon sucks on his lower lip, looking very much like he is. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Minseok reaches to brush his fingers over Junmyeon’s forearm as he passes him. They have some bags stashed in a cupboard somewhere that the trash can be divided into. “It’s not a problem, you just made a mistake.” If he sounds tired and a little dismissive it’s because he is. Junmyeon’s scatterbrained, hectic ways are just a part of who he is, and who Minseok was fully aware he was going to be sharing a home with for the rest of his life. That Minseok is the kind of person who has a drawer divider for his cleaning cloths and spent three whole weeks browsing throw blankets first by colour then by pile was always going to conflict with that.

It’s just in Baekhyun’s nature to create noise when there isn’t any. “So, I’ll get going,” he says a little loud for the small kitchen, and Junmyeon quickly offers to see him out.

“Hey,” Baekhyun grips Junmyeon’s forearm to steady himself as he wedges his second shoe on, “We had a nice time, yeah? You deserve a celebration for a success like that.” He straightens up, grins. “And all the sleep you can catch up on, I know you run on like two hours when you’ve got an idea in your head.”

Junmyeon smiles, but he can really feel the weight of holding it up. “Thanks. Yeah, I should..probably do that less now I’m getting older?” 

“Nah, I think you should keep making the most of your brain while it’s still juicy,” Baekhyun says, then makes a dive for Junmyeon’s already mussed hair.

  
From the kitchen Minseok hears their laughter filter through. He shakes his head, a little smile on his lips. A chaotic household overwhelms him quickly, but they have good friends.

  
♡

  
Minseok comes to realise three things as he wakes on Sunday morning. He’s awake before his alarm, which means he has longer to bury back down under the covers. He fell asleep with cotton pads on both cheeks and they’ve dried onto him, hard and crisp over his incredibly well toned skin. Blearily sitting up to peel them away, it’s only when he has both pads in his hands and leans over Junmyeon’s side to aim them at the small trashcan that he finds himself alone. Huh. 

It isn’t in Junmyeon’s nature to rise early. Generally the only explanation for him being awake before 8am would be that a. he hasn’t actually slept yet, or b. Minseok invited him for a morning run. Junmyeon was definitely sharing the bed with Minseok last night. And when Minseok ventures slipping one foot out from under the covers, it feels so chilly even he wouldn’t be enthusiastic to get outside. So, hmm.

A cosy sweater and breakfast for Tan later, Minseok starts the small scale search for his husband. It doesn’t take long to locate him - the bathroom is the only room with a light on.

Minseok nudges the door the rest of the way open to find Junmyeon sitting on the edge of the tub. His nose and cheeks are splotchy pink from crying. What had been Minseok’s carefully crafted towel stack is now strewn across the bathroom floor, and Junmyeon is cradling what looks like a very awry attempt at a refolded one. 

“Junmyeonnie?” Minseok ventures, “Are you feeling ok?”

Junmyeon shakes his head, then nods, then starts sniffling again and presses his face into the dark red towel. 

For Minseok, after years of having Junmyeon in his life, this isn’t an entirely unusual situation. But while Junmyeon is renown for having inexplicable emotional outbursts, even by his standards this doesn’t feel right.

Minseok crouches down to start gathering towels. Junmyeon’s feet are bare and wrapped around each other at the ankle, and Minseok gently touches the cold skin to get his attention. “Everything..ok?” he asks cautiously.

“I can’t believe you still love me,” Junmyeon sniffs, “I can’t believe you could actually love someone who makes your home like this.”

Minseok’s instinctive reaction is to gawp. Junmyeon looks so solemn he wouldn’t dare dismiss the notion, however ridiculous it sounds to hear. “It’s our home, Junmyeonnie. And-” 

“Like I never- it’s not that I don’t _want_ to help out,” Junmyeon continues, raising his hands. It unfurls his towel further. His mouth turns down, but thankfully no more tears. He clutches the towel tight to his chest, “It- it is, I mean, ok, I _do_ try to get out of it sometimes, but we just have different priorities, and-”

“Junmyeon, you do help out,” Minseok interjects. He shifts to settle on his knees on the bath mat, reaches to rub at Junmyeon’s shin. “It’s not like we aren’t already pretty settled in our ways.”

“I know, but- I keep relying on you to know what to do better than me, and even the stuff I can do I messed up so many times recently, and you work hard and want a nice home to come back to and-” 

Minseok gives him a firm squeeze. “Junmyeon, slow down. Calm,” he says, gesturing with his free hand for Junmyeon to inhale and exhale. “We wouldn’t be married if I didn’t want you here with me. I’d rather have you than a spotless home any day, you know that.”

Thankfully Junmyeon lets that sink in rather than responding with more babbling. He wipes his wet cheek with a sleeve, and Minseok takes the lull in conversation as an opportunity to climb up and sit beside him. Junmyeon’s face presses burning hot against his neck. He drops a kiss to the top of Junmyeon’s head, and even there feels too warm. Too little sleep and too much crying is Minseok’s diagnosis.

“When you’re working on something big you get forgetful. I’m used to that, Junmyeon. I know it’s not because you don’t care.”

Junmyeon takes Minseok’s hand. His fingers are cold and wet and Minseok squeezes tight. His heart aches to see his husband so sad. “I care a lot, Minseok. About you. And you being happy and liking being married to me.”

Minseok nods solemnly. “And the same for me. I know you prefer living with everything built up around you and I appreciate that you make an effort when it isn’t your preference. I know you’d much rather be burrowed down in piles of laundry and keep all your shoe boxes on display.”

Junmyeon nods morosely and sniffs again. Minseok stretches away to tear off toilet paper for him to blow his nose.

The bathroom has never been one of Minseok’s favourite rooms. It would have been nicer if it could have had a window rather than being at the heart of the layout, but it lost out in other compromises. So Minseok just made it look as decent as possible, and honestly, he’s pretty sure more people are messy like Junmyeon than try to create a space that looks like a high end hotel.

“Junmyeonnie,” Minseok gently eases the towel out of his hands and starts folding it into a basic square, “I know this will be horrifying news to you, but I do actually enjoy cleaning. It makes me feel good, and I..don’t laugh when I say this, but you know most of my hobbies are active things?”

Junmyeon nods again. His lips look even dryer than usual from the crying, and he anxiously rubs the pad of his ring finger over the cracked skin.

“Well, if I can’t go out and there’s nothing to watch, then cleaning is..actually a fun thing to do? It keeps me busy and moving. It’s satisfying having everything all orderly and knowing I keep the place nice for us.” Minseok shrugs. “I know that isn’t anything exciting and you’d rather I read a book or something, but..”

“No no-” Junmyeon grips Minseok’s sleeve. “I want you to do whatever you like doing. Even if I totally don’t get it. But you don’t really get the things I do either, and that’s- that’s fine, right? We don’t have to understand everything about each other.” 

“We can understand without having to do those things together,” Minseok rephrases, and Junmyeon nods enthusiastically. That’s a good compromise. One they reached many years ago before there was a home and wedding rings and a co-parented cat, but a reminder now and then can’t hurt. “Junmyeonnie, all I need you to do is not create _more_ mess. I did get a little frustrated the other night, but that doesn’t..” Minseok frowns. He hates the thought of Junmyeon working himself up over something that will never, ever happen. “It wouldn’t ever mean I don’t love you or our life together. We make things work the way they work for us. That’s what we’ve always done. Isn’t that kind of what your article was about?”

Junmyeon lowers his head, abruptly bashful. “It was, yes. I think maybe that was partly the problem.” He pauses to blow his nose again. It’s pink and sore and Minseok remembers his own skincare disaster this morning. Junmyeon will laugh when he tells him. “I fitted in so much about how well we work together and how good things are, I suddenly realised we weren’t actually reflecting that because I was so caught up in writing about it?”

“I appreciate that you’ve been thinking about it. But I’d appreciate it even more if you’d have a few early nights and relax.” Minseok gives Junmyeon a playfully stern look, and Junmyeon smiles sheepishly. That isn’t agreement, but then Junmyeon never likes to make a promise if he isn’t confident he can keep it. An hour or two would be good, if not _early_. Minseok feels Junmyeon’s warm cheek and drops a soft kiss there when he finds him less overheated than before. 

For a moment they sit in Sunday morning peace, Junmyeon calm and stuffed up now rather than sniffling. Minseok feels chilly sitting here even in his warm sweater. They should get back to bed soon to warm up. 

“So..the towels?” Minseok ventures as a prompt to get them moving.

“Oh..” Junmyeon looks at the mess around them, the neatly folded square in Minseok’s lap. “Just clumsy without my glasses. I wanted to put it right for you rather than leaving a mess, but rolling them up the way you had them was harder than I thought.”

“There’s a skill to it,” Minseok says, then shakes his head at how ridiculous that sounds. Yes, he did consider buying a book before Baekhyun showed him how to find a tutorial on youtube. “It took me a while to learn and get the hang of it.”

“I can learn. I’d like to be able to help.” Junmyeon gently knocks their ankles together. He sighs, then shivers and presses closer to Minseok. “See, you _can_ do creative stuff sometimes. Fancy towel folding is definitely a creative skill.”

Minseok hums. “And you can be tidy sometimes. But we don’t need to be either of those things right now,” he says, standing and offering Junmyeon a hand, “We should warm up. And I’d like some time with you before you start another project.”

“Both of those things sound good.” Junmyeon squeezes himself in close against Minseok, and for a moment they stay there, swaying into a hug in the cold bathroom surrounded by towels. Their own odd, happy brand of domesticity. And then Minseok tugs Junmyeon along back to their freshly made bed, unconcerned that they’re about to rumple it all back up again.

♡


End file.
